You spiderweb the rain. Actas if it wasn't everywhere. Umbrellas flare out as if rubber reptiles and birds feather you, hide you and your cumulushome. Gray as shivering bougainvilleaas if web-petals. Lights grow: one off on again fade to blank. Flounderas only a flounder can ebb. And flow through water. Arms tucked into sides look like fins to fan cold flames. Stalactite down, jail-houseprodigy. Learn with the learning of sharks. Your arm-fins will breach water.

The Folly of a Love Story:

A toad in the desertholds an umbrella for the sky, thinking"Give me, give me." There is no rain here. Only the clouds holdchrysalis ice, and the drought-to-erase-all-droughts that follows. Icicle people strain open ribsmoving back muscle mass to reveal pumping hearts. "Give me, give me." There is no warmth here.